


An Overdue Conversation

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 23:06:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1705889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly is at Sherlock's home one afternoon , looking at the things he owns, when she asks him about the deerstalker and why he hates it so much. In the course of the conversation many things are revealed and a decision is made by both of them to move their friendship in a different direction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Overdue Conversation

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't guessed by now, I'm going to be writing a lot of "I don't approve of Tom or Janine so it all happens differently" type fic. I hope all of you don't mind? Anyway, this is an answer to the "Hats" prompt on **land_deduction** 's Both Shows bingo card.

“Why do you hate the deerstalker so much?”

Sherlock blinked at that. To be honest, he'd been so busy concentrating on the file he was reading he'd forgotten Molly was in his sitting room, waiting for him to need her expertise. She had been sitting in a chair but now that he pulled his head up and looked around he saw her standing by the wall, looking at the dartboard he had put up and the photo of him in the deerstalker that he had decided to throw darts at. He looked at her for a long moment. “It's a silly hat,” he said finally.

“Well, that is true, but you can pull it off,” she said. “You don't look that bad in that photo, other than all the tiny holes in it.” She looked away from it. “Do you ever wear any other hats?”

“No, not really. I don't like them very much. When I was young I used to wear a cap, but only because I was forced to. As soon as I could take it off I did.”

“I would love to see you in a fedora, I think. You'd look quite dashing.”

“Perhaps,” he said with a slight nod. “What about you? How do you feel about hats?”

She smiled. “I love hats. I have quite a few at home, but I never really have an occasion to wear them.” She moved away from the dartboard.

“Surely Tom takes you places where you can,” Sherlock said.

Her smile faltered and she got quiet for a moment before she sat down again. “No, he didn't, not really.”

He looked at her carefully. She had used past tense instead of present tense. He didn't pay all that much attention to her personal life, and what little attention he had paid to it was thinking that she deserved much better than a pale imitation of himself, but she seemed to be sad about the turn of events. Not torn up over it or distraught, but she had taken the turn of events with a quiet resignation. “How long ago did it end?” he asked.

“Shortly after the wedding,” she said with a shrug. “I suppose I was looking for something I wasn't going to get from him. When I realized I wasn't going to get it I broke it off. But I think he was on the verge of doing that first.”

Sherlock wasn't entirely sure what to say or do during this conversation. It had been very apparent to everyone who had been at his home when Tom had been introduced that part of his appeal to Molly had been the similarities to him. Everyone cared for her enough not to bring it up, though, at least not to her. If she was truly happy they all wanted her to stay happy. He had to admit that had included him. Of all his friends other than John, she was the one he was closest to. She was the only other one he would even admit that about, either, even if it was blatantly obvious he would cared for the rest of his friends as well. “Molly...” he said finally.

“He wasn't you, you know,” she said quietly. “I know everyone could see it. They could all see that I was still hung up on you. And I tried to be happy with him, I really did. I convinced myself that he was a good man in his own right and not a substitute for you, and all I did was fool myself and fool him for a time. But he knew, when you came back.”

He set aside his file and leaned forward, placing his elbows on his thighs and clasping his hands together before resting his chin on them. “He's a better man for you than I would be,” he said after a moment's pause.

“Probably,” she said. “But any man who knows they aren't the one their partner really wants is going to be unhappy. It wouldn't have lasted much longer if I hadn't ended it, especially since you and I are friends, even if we don't spend much time together.”

He nodded. After the one case with the body at the desk she had said she couldn't help him anymore, and yet she had. She was doing that today. He knew something had changed in her life, that she now felt it was okay to do for him what John had usually done. He just hadn't realized it was the fact her relationship had ended. “Do you regret it?” he asked.

“Breaking things off with him? No, not really. I hate being lonely again, being alone again, but I need to follow my heart, and I was just going to hurt both of us if we stayed in a relationship. I'm not the type of person who does that.” She turned and gave him a small smile. “I'm sorry I'm dumping this on you. You probably don't care about my failed relationship.”

“I do, though,” he said. “I thought he was making you happy. And really, I don't like seeing you unhappy. You are one of my closest friends.”

“Well, there really isn't anything you can do to fix it. I'm just going to stay alone for a while. A very long while, probably.” She stood up. “Enough about this. I should make us some tea.”

He watched her move into the kitchen, and after a moment he stood up and moved to join her. She had went to the sink to fill up the kettle. He knew there was a way he could fix this. He knew it and he had to admit, the idea wasn't altogether loathsome. He'd had an idea in his head that would be dashed if he did this, a plot to catch a dangerous man, but he didn't want her to be miserable. He could always figure out some other way to catch that man later. “I can fix it, though,” he said quietly, watching her still in her movements once he spoke.

“Don't do something you don't want to do,” she said, shutting her eyes. “I don't want to make you miserable too by making you think you need to do this just to make me happy. I'll be fine on my own.”

“If I told you I had considered it at points since the day at the hospital, the day Moriarty killed himself on the roof, would that surprise you?” he asked.

She glanced at him sharply. “What?”

He nodded. “I had. Not very often, but it had crossed my mind. I may come across as someone who doesn't feel things other people feel, but I _do_ actually have feelings and thoughts that are just like everyone else’s. I just choose not to acknowledge them most of the time.”

“But why me?” she asked. “Before that day you didn't care about me, not like that.”

“I could trust you not to hurt me, not to use me up and spit me out. At the Christmas party, when I humiliated you in front of everyone, you stood up for yourself and made me see you were more than I had thought you were. And as time went on I started to realize that, perhaps, it wouldn't be an altogether bad thing if I could admit I cared for you, at least as a friend. But then Moriarty's game started and I had to leave. I'd thought about it more when I had time and thought that it might have developed into more but when I came back you were with someone else.”

“So what are you saying?” she asked quietly. “That you'd actually attempt to date me? And that it would be for more reasons than just trying to make sure I'm not miserable?”

“Yes,” he said slowly. “On both counts.”

“Do you really think this would be a good idea, though? I mean, logically?” she asked before biting her lip slightly. He could see she was torn between getting what she had wanted for such a long time and keeping things safe by keeping them how they were now.

“Logically, there's always the chance this could blow up in our faces. We'll attempt to have a normal dating relationship and it will all fall apart and we'll lose both the relationship and our friendship,” he said. “But that doesn't mean we shouldn't at least try. I look at John and I see he's happy. And I've started to realize I want something like that, too. I never thought I would. I fully expected to be alone for the rest of my life. But I suppose enough things have happened to me that I've realized being the way I was before is only going to lead to me being miserable and alone, and I don't want that end.” He looked over at her intently. “At least give me a chance.”

She kept his gaze, then set the kettle down and moved closer to him. She moved so she was directly in front of him, looking up. “All right, Sherlock. I'll give you a chance,” she said, giving him a smile.

He gave her a small grin back. Not one of the ones he used to placate people, but an honest smile, a genuine one. “Good.” He lifted his hand up slightly and after a moment tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I think tea and the case can wait for a bit.”

“And just what do you want to do?” she asked.

“Go out. Do something two people on a date would do. You'll have to take the lead in this, but I'm willing to do whatever it is you want to do for the next few hours before we need to go back to work.”

“How about we go get supper and just talk?” she suggested.

“I could do that,” he said with a nod, and he watched her smile widen. “Let's go get our coats and be off, then.”

“All right,” she said with a nod before pulling away from him. This was a turn he hadn't expected today, but it was a good turn of events. Perhaps with Molly he could be happy and _let_ himself be happy. At least now he had the chance to find out if it was a possibility, and he was incredibly grateful for that.


End file.
